COMFORT ZONES
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Two weary, muck-encrusted hunters named Winchester stop for hot showers and a night of rest. --NOT SLASH--


All standard disclaimers apply.

**A/N:** This was a "Get Well" pick-me-up story written for a fellow SN fan and fic writer. The theme was "Family".

* * *

**Comfort Zones**

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Dean Winchester pushed open the driver's door of the Impala, cracking a half smile at the familiar, comforting squeak. Swinging his legs out of the car, he planted his boot-clad feet solidly on the macadam and wearily pushed himself up, pausing a moment to lean against the still-warm metal before ducking his head to look back inside.

"You comin' there, Jolly Green? Or you just gonna sleep in the car? No—scratch that—are you just gonna sleep outside on the ground 'cause you're not sleeping in the car like THAT—" Dean flicked his hand up and down for emphasis then smiled when he heard the passenger door groan its own familiar squeak.

"Bossy much?" muttered Sam, "Besides you're as much 'THAT' as I am." He climbed from the vehicle, shutting the heavy door before wiping ineffectually at the rapidly drying gunk covering him from head to toe.

The older Winchester looked down and nodded, acknowledging his own rather disgustingly pitiful state. He looked over the top of Impala's roof at Sam. "Yeah. Thank God we had that old blanket in the trunk to throw over the front seat of my baby. This stuff freakin' reeks."

Sam snuffled against the snot that was determined to drip from his nose in reaction to the foul odors that continued to assault it. "So does that blanket."

Dean grinned, feeling the dried muck plastered on his face crack as he did so. "Hey, beggars can't be choosers, Goliath."

"Whatever, man." The younger hunter stretched his arms over his head somewhat gently, mindful of the blooming bruises across his back and torso. "Let's just go see if THIS place has a room for the night."

The older sibling rounded the back of the car and popped the trunk. He grabbed both their bags, tossing Sam's in his direction before reaching back and grabbing the weapons bag. "I can't believe we have to stay at some frilly Bed and Breakfast place." He huffed and spun on his heel, heading toward the front door of the Quarter Turn Inn.

"Hey, if it's got a shower and a bed, I'm all for it. Besides it's only for one night, Dean. I think you'll survive."

"Yeah, but…"

A faint rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

Sam paused and looked up at the sky. "We tried the only two motels in town, and they're booked full because of some weird TV show convention or something. The next town is a hundred miles away and I'm filthy and tired. And hungry. Would you rather spend the night out here in the rain?"

Dean grunted. "No."

"Good. Let's just hope they HAVE a room left to rent us." Sam trudged up the steps and pulled open the door, motioning for his brother to proceed.

The two weary, muck-encrusted hunters approached the small, unmanned desk and dropped their bags at their feet, each taking a second to look around. The flowery scent of lavender surrounded them, nearly managing to mask their own current _less than pleasant_ odor. The walls were patterned with miniature lavender flowers on a background of cream. Light purple chair rail and trim completed the interior design. To their right, next to the stairs, stood a small table topped with a purple lamp and flanked by two delicate-looking chairs adorned with flounces of purple lace.

Dean muttered, "Oh, God," under his breath, earning him a sharp jab in the side from Sam's elbow. "Ow!" he hissed, rubbing the offended spot.

Sam reached up, tapping the small bell on the desk. They waited several minutes, and he was just about to ring it again when a petite, white-haired woman rounded the corner at a good clip.

"So sorry to keep you waiting! What can I do…oh my…" She placed a hand over her heart, nervously eyeing the two tall strangers standing before her. Her nose crinkled when she caught a whiff of the gunk covering them both.

"We need a room." Another well-placed elbow to the side from his brother prompted Dean to add, "please."

"Well, I-I don't…" A closer clap of thunder outside punctuated her hesitation.

Seeing the elderly woman's trepidation, Sam donned his most innocent, sincere expression and quickly spoke up. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, I know we look rather—disreputable—but we're not—I promise," Sam saw her shoulders relax a bit and she dropped her hand. Encouraged, he continued on, "We were out—hiking—and got lost. And my brother here," he pointed, "he tripped—fell into this nasty mud pit, and I kinda had to go in after him—you know—and save him. We're both all banged up and exhausted. We really just want a shower and some sleep."

Hearing his brother wind down, Dean added, "We tried to go to a motel but they're all booked."

The older woman studied them intently for several seconds before a sunny smile creased her face. "Well, bless your hearts. I surely would love to accommodate you, dears. But I'm afraid we're booked full."

Dejection descended hard and rounded the shoulders of both Winchester brothers. As one, they bent over to pick up their bags.

Seeing the defeat and fatigue dueling on their faces, she spoke again. "Well, except for the two rooms on the third floor, but…"

"But?" They replied in stereo.

"We don't often rent them out. They're such tiny rooms. Only room for a twin bed and a night stand. Not what most vacationers are looking for. And you'd have to share the bathroom that sits between the two. The one perk if you will is that there's plenty of hot water. My dear George just loved his hot showers. Made sure to have extra large tanks installed when we took the place over."

"We'll take them," announced Dean.

"Well, all right, if you're sure…"

Dean smiled. "We're sure. How much?"

"Under the circumstances, I'll give you boys a discount. How 'bout 40 for each?"

"Deal!" The older Winchester pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled four twenty dollar bills from within its confines. He counted them out into the innkeeper's outstretched hand.

"Thank you, dear," she smiled and tucked the money away in the lockbox beneath the desk. "Now if you'll just sign the register, you'll be all set." She nudged the book toward him, watching while he scribbled out a name. "Okay, Mr. Stoker. Here's your key," she handed Dean a key, "your room is to the left at the top of the stairs, and here's yours, dear." She smiled and handed the second key to Sam. "I'm Ida, by the way. If you need anything, just come find me."

"I'm Dean. That's Sam. A hot shower and soft bed for the night—I think we'll be fine."

Just as Dean finished speaking Sam's stomach emitted a loud grumble, capturing everyone's attention. The tall, lanky hunter blushed. "Sorry."

"Oh, dear. It sounds like you boys are hungry too. I'm afraid the kitchen is officially closed for the night, but I tell ya what, why don't you go on up—get started on those showers while I see what I can rustle up."

Sam put up a hand in protest. "No, no. Don't go to any trouble, Ida. Really, I'm—we're—fine!" This time it was Dean's elbow connecting with Sam's side and the taller of the two let out an involuntary squeak.

"Oh, pooh—it's no trouble. It'll be something simple, trust me." Ida shooed them out of the reception area and up the stairs.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Taking the lead, Dean marched determinedly up each tread. After clearing the second floor landing, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Rock, Paper, Scissors for the first shower?"

Banking on Ida's assurances that there would be plenty of hot water no matter who went first, Sam shook his head no. "Nah. Go ahead."

The brothers separated at the top of the stairs, each moving to their own doors and letting themselves inside.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Inside his room, Dean dropped his duffel bag and the weapons bag on top of the old-fashioned white chenille bedspread atop the twin bed. Anxious now to be out of his befouled clothes, he quickly ditched his boots and socks and stripped down to his boxers with an exaggerated sigh of relief. He kicked his filthy clothes into the corner before ruffling through his bag to find a clean t-shirt and boxers.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Sam entered his room but left his door cracked. He set his duffel down and covetously eyed the twin bed. It looked soft and terribly inviting. His eyelids dipped to half mast, and he resisted the urge to drop boneless and fully-clothed onto the bed. With a groan, he toed off his shoes and yanked the socks off his feet, pausing for a moment to curl his toes into the surprisingly lush carpet. An errant sneeze finally prompted him to shuck all but his boxers in a hurry, and he kicked the odiferous items into the corner. He heard Dean exit his room followed by the click of the bathroom door seconds later, and he sat down on the edge of his bed to wait his turn.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Dean started the shower in the claw-footed tub, adjusting the knobs until the water was nice and hot before slipping behind the shower curtain. With a practically orgasmic groan, the hunter ducked his head under the showerhead and let the welcome gush of water cascade through his hair, down his muscled torso and beyond, washing away both the dried sludge covering nearly every inch of his skin and some of the bone-deep ache in his muscles.

He made good use of the shampoo and soap, grimacing only a little at its strong lavender scent. With a final groan, Dean rinsed then truncated the flow of water. As much as he wanted to make this a marathon shower, hunger and sleep were far greater temptations. Dean stepped from the tub, dried quickly with a large, fluffy towel and slung it around his hips before he exited the bathroom and padded to his brother's room, finding Sam nearly asleep sitting up.

"Dude, shower's free!"

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Sam's eyes snapped open at his brother's call and he saw Dean leaning against his door jamb wrapped in nothing but a towel. He stood and moved to the door, eager now for his chance to be clean.

"Nice modesty there, big brother." His mouth tipped up at the corner.

"Wha? Dean gave a one shouldered shrug, fingers firmly gripping the corners of the towel to hold it in place. "All you have on is boxers. And besides, it's just you and me up here on the third floor."

"Oh, and me…" squeaked a voice from behind them.

Both boys jumped a foot and turned to see Ida at the top of the stairs, holding a tray of food. The Winchester brothers each blushed to the roots of their hair at being caught nearly naked by the elderly innkeeper. Before they could squeeze anything past their tight throats, the innkeeper spoke.

"I'm sorry, boys. I shoulda guessed you'd both still be … um … indisposed."

Sam inched his way toward the bathroom door.

Ida's cheeks were pink but she continued on, "I brought you sandwiches—roast beef on Herbed Olive Bread. Oh, and a dozen Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies, and a glass of milk for each of you. A-And I brought plastic bags for your clothes…"

The taller man reached his destination and slipped inside the bathroom, leaving his towel-clad brother to deal with Ida.

Sam bent his knees a little, ducked under the strong stream of hot water, and let out a moan not unlike his brother's earlier. The wet heat soothed his bruises and abrasions, washed away the filth, and left him feeling much cleaner in both body and spirit. He ran soapy hands across his chest, arms, down his legs. Sam saved his hair for last, relishing the lather of the shampoo as it washed the smelly nastiness away. Once the flow of water carried the last of the grime down the drain, he turned the knobs to "Off" and quickly dried. Sam secured the towel around his waist, cracked open the door, and peeked out.

"You can come out. She's gone."

Sam emerged to find his brother sitting in the corner by his door, munching on a cookie. "Come and eat, Sammy, before I eat yours too."

"Lemme just put some clothes on, dude," Sam trotted toward his room, "And don't you dare touch my sandwich!"

He returned a couple of minutes later wearing boxers and a t-shirt, the same as his sibling. The lanky man folded himself down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged. He dug into his sandwich with gusto and joy. It was gone as fast as he could chew and swallow. He slowed down a little to enjoy the milk and cookies along with Dean. As he was savoring the last bite of his final cookie, exhaustion settled in and Sam's eyelids began to droop.

Feeling like his own were similarly weighted, Dean yawned and said, "Hey, Sammy, let's call it a night, huh?"

Sam nodded his agreement, and the two beyond-weary hunters retired to their rooms.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Dean sighed for what seemed like the millionth time and rolled over, punching his pillow—again. The storm had blown itself out and the cool breeze coming through the back window was chasing away any lingering humidity in the air. He was tired—more than tired. Sleep should have come easily. But it hadn't. He couldn't get comfortable. It was just too—too—ah, hell, too quiet. There it was. It was too damn quiet. He'd grown used to having Sammy in the same room with him again. Dean would never admit that to a soul, but it was the honest truth. He rolled out of bed and gathered up his blanket and pillow.

_**(SN) (SN) (SN)**_

Sam sighed for what seemed like the millionth time and rolled over, punching his pillow—again. The storm had blown itself out and the cool breeze coming through the front window was chasing away any lingering humidity in the air. He was tired—more than tired. Sleep should have come easily. But it hadn't. He couldn't get comfortable. It was just too—too—ah, hell, too quiet. There it was. It was too damn quiet. He'd grown used to having Dean in the same room with him again. Sam would never admit that to a soul, but it was the honest truth. He was just about to roll out of bed and gather up his blanket and pillow when he heard the faint sounds of somebody at his door. Sam tensed and waited, relaxing only when he instinctively realized it was his brother. He stayed silent.

Dean paused inside the door, making sure Sam was still asleep. Hearing his deep, even breaths, Dean relaxed and followed his pillow and blanket onto the floor. He squirmed around until he got comfortable and let out a nearly inaudible sigh. Closing his eyes, he tumbled almost immediately into a deep sleep.

On the bed, Sam's mouth tilted into a full-blown grin. He listened as Dean's breathing steadily deepened. Now content, he rolled onto his stomach, closed his eyes, and he too tumbled into the oblivion of sleep.

_**FINI**_


End file.
